


Paper cut

by Arianna4President



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, forgive me lin for i have sinned, rated m for implied sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8221810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianna4President/pseuds/Arianna4President
Summary: "Sir, I don't know what you've heard but whatever it is, Jefferson started it!" he had belted as soon as Washington opened the door to his office, while Jefferson had just rolled his eyes. But Washington had probably been in a bad mood that morning, because instead of getting rid of them with his usual paternal words, he had sat livid at Alexander's desk and called them children, which, okay, fair, and had imposed upon them to go empty the archive room, which was the total opposite of fair.





	

  
"This - " grumbles Alexander as he tries to reach a big box on top of a shelf. " - is all _your_ fault."

  
"How is this my fault, exactly?" inquires Jefferson, leaning on the doorway, looking down at the shorter man with an expression akin to disdain on his face.

  
"Because you're the one who pissed Washington off this morning, hence his idea to make us empty the archive room all by ourselves." replays Alexander, giving up on trying to reach the box and drying off the sweat on his head with his sleeve. 7.34 in the morning and he's already a mess, what else is new.

  
He hears Jefferson scoff. "If I had pissed him off all by myself you wouldn't be here, darling."

  
Alexander thinks he has a point, but he'd rather drink poison than admitting that to Jefferson of all people. It hadn't been his fault though, okay? It had been Jefferson's fault, as usual. If the damn Virginian hadn't opened his dumb mouth that morning, Alexander wouldn't have replayed with something offensive and the sound of their screaming match wouldn't have reached the ears of Washington.

  
" _Sir, I don't know what you've heard but whatever it is, Jefferson started it!_ " he had belted as soon as Washington opened the door to his office, while Jefferson had just rolled his eyes. But Washington had probably been in a bad mood that morning, because instead of getting rid of them with his usual paternal words, he had sat livid at Alexander's desk and called them children, which, okay, _fair_ , and had imposed upon them to go empty the archive room, which was the total opposite of fair.

  
"But sir - " he and Jefferson had started saying at the same moment, only to interrupt the sentence to glare at each other.

  
"I want that room clean by noon, am I clear? And you won't get any help from anyone. You'll do it yourselves, maybe this way you'll learn how to cooperate".

  
So that's how they had ended up all alone three floors under the main building, with no windows, no air conditioning, and zero tolerance for each other.

  
"Don't call me darling." snorts Alexander. "God, what a waste of time this is. I could be in my office right now, doing something much more productive. I still have three essays to write, one speech to finish and one to correct and - ah, but what I'm telling you for? Just help me get this damn box, will you? The earlier we finish the earlier I can go back to the office.".

  
Jefferson sighs as if Alexander had asked him to hold the world on his shoulders. "You short people are so damn angry all the time." he remarks, walking excruciatingly slow towards him, just to make Alexander even madder. He reaches the box with ease and the corner of his shirt lifts up, showing dark, smooth skin underneath and wow, has this room always been this hot?

  
"Done." says Jefferson with that infuriating smirk of his, as he passes Alexander the box.

  
"We're not even close to done, we still need to empty all these damn boxes!" exclaims Alexander, gesturing around with his hand.

  
The archive room is full up until the ceiling with boxes, folders, spare parts of old computers and random junk left there to rot for about ten years. You'd think someone would clean it more often, being it a government building, but apparently not. The fact that the room is as hot as a furnace certainly doesn't help.

  
Jefferson sighs, looking around with disgust. "I can't believe I am going to do a job that's supposed to be done by unpaid interns."

  
"Well, if you hadn't pissed Washington off this morning - " starts Alexander, but the words die in his throat as he sees Jefferson taking off his shirt. " What - what are you doing?" he asks, hoping his voice doesn't sound as acute as he thinks it is.

  
Alexander may be a lot of things, but he's not a liar. He's perfectly willing to admit (to himself, at least) that he finds Jefferson attractive. I mean, who wouldn't? With those perfect hair and cheekbones and chest and abs and... well, Alexander forces his thoughts not to go any further, although he's pretty sure Jefferson's trend of being perfect continues below the belt as well.

  
Jefferson looks at him as if he was stupid, and Alexander would feel the urge to punch him in the face if he weren't currently very, very flustered. "I have a meeting this afternoon and I can't afford to ruin my tailored suit... unlike someone." he finishes with a condescending smirk.

  
Alexander doesn't even remember what the hell he had put on that morning, so he looks down at his choice of clothes and grimaces, thinking Jefferson has a point (again, damn him). His shirt and his tie definitely don't match, and his trousers are at least a size too tight. "It was laundry day" he mutters, refusing to feel self conscious in front of Thomas fucking Jefferson, who in returns just shakes his head.

  
If Alexander had stated breathing normally again by the time Jefferson had carefully folded his shirt and placed it on a shelf, his breathing functions stop working altogether when he sees Jefferson fiddling with his best.

  
"What are you doing?" he asks again, with a twinge of hysteria. He definitely hasn't had enough coffee this morning to face Jefferson undressing himself in front of him. Those kind of fantasies usually happen by night, when he's alone and nobody can know what he's thinking.

  
Jefferson raises an eyebrow. "I'm taking my suit off so I don't ruin it. I told you." he says, articulating word for word as if he was talking to a child. Then his trousers are off and he's standing there in front of Alexander with only his shoes and his underwear.

  
"Unless you can't handle this?" he asks, mockingly concerned, ad if he hadn't just overstepped a line never meant to be crossed.

  
And oh, _oh_ , Alexander can see it now, can see what Jefferson is trying to do. Because Jefferson may be an ass, but he's a clever ass, and he must have figured out how much this situation flusters Alexander. It doesn't really take a genius to see it, and Alexander has been less than subtle about it more often than not. But the joke is on him, because Alexander is just as clever, and it's not like he hasn't noticed Jefferson looking at him in the same way he looks at Jefferson. They've been dancing around each other for years now, both of them too proud to make a real move, but unable to restrain themselves from teasing the other.

  
Well, two can play this game.

  
"You wish" he scoffs, and he can see Jefferson's eyes widen as he starts taking his shirt off. He feels Jefferson's stare on him the whole time he takes off his trousers, and Alexander takes his time, trying not to do it too quickly but not even too slowly.

  
When he turns around to face Jefferson again after placing down his clothes, Alexander sees he still has his mouth slightly open.

  
Point, set and match for Alexander Hamilton.

"Well, are you gonna do something or are you going to stand there all day?" he taunts, and damn if it doesn't sound like an invitation. Alexander is not a gambler, but he'd bet his ass that something would happen by the end of the day.

  
He might have not taken enough coffee this morning, but suddenly his feels his veins pump with adrenaline.

  
"I bet I can empty the boxes faster than you do." replays Jefferson, ever the child, but it takes one to know one, because Alexander immediately accepts the challenge.

  
So they start working, going back and forth from the bottom of the archive to where the litter bins are. Time passes in relative silence, interrupted only by some cutting remarks every now and then.

  
( _"This folder is molder than your brain."_

  
_"At least I have a brain."_

  
_"So quick-witted, Alexander."_

  
_"Alas, I admit it."_

  
and

  
_"When was this picture taken?"_

  
_"2013. You were in France. That's why I look so happy."_

  
_"Fuck off, Alexander."_ ).

  
They've been circling closer and closer to each other all morning, their hands brushing when they pass one another some folders, their arms brushing when they work on opening some boxes side by side, their legs brushing when they start flipping to some old photo album.

  
And even when they are on opposites sides of the room, Jefferson is still always in the corner of Alexander's eyes, distracting him with his sculpted abs and his long legs.   
Naturally he knows Jefferson has been glancing at him as much as he has been glancing at Jefferson, and if Alexander has bent over a few times more than necessary to empty some boxes, well, there is no one who can prove it.

  
By eleven, the archive is almost clean and Alexander's patience is wearing thin. Standing in a room with a half naked Jefferson and not doing anything with him is just as bad as going to Paris and skipping the Eiffel Tower.

  
"Fuck!" exclaims Jefferson suddenly, distracting Alexander from his thoughts. "I got a paper cut. Fuck, it hurts.". He flops down on an old stuffed armchair, holding his bleeding finger with the other hand.

  
"Don't make a fuss, just put it into your mouth and be done with it." suggests Alexander, without even thinking.

  
Jefferson slowly raises his eyebrows, a smirk slowly expanding on his face. "You see, Alexander," he says, feigning innocence. "I would do that, but I'm afraid I don't know how, exactly. Where should I put my tongue in all of this, for example? I wouldn't know how to do it myself if I don't see someone doing it first.".

  
"I could show you." offers Alexander, trying to be nonchalant, while in his brain fire alarms are exploding. If he were to say no to this, he doesn't really know what his relationship with Jefferson would be like. Their rivalry has always been mixed with sexual tension, it probably couldn't even exist without it. But if he were to say yes... well, he could keep hating on Jefferson for his stupid political ideas, _and_ get to fuck him on a daily basis. It's a win-win situation, there really is no choice to be made.

  
"You could." agrees Jefferson, nodding.

  
"But your fingers are all moldy now." half-protests Alexander, already knowing where this is going and loving every second of it.

  
"Mmm," concedes Jefferson. "I suppose you're right. Then we should find something else you can show me on, don't you agree, Alexander?" he asks, shrugging as if he didn't really care.

  
"For the first time in my life I'm inclined to agree with you." Alexander smirks as well, and when he drops on his knees he thinks that maybe this trip to the archive wasn't a complete waste of time after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in one shot (pun intended) after cleaning the archive room at work. Unfortunately my day didn't end as pleasantly as Thomas and Alexander's. 
> 
> Reviews are always very much appreciated!


End file.
